Love Unexpected
by Lyaksandra
Summary: As time passes, we change, and so do our feelings. Max learns, falls, and gets up again. In trying to put distance from her pain, she rediscovers love.


**Author's Note.**

Warning: In this AU, Max will shift sentimentally from Chloe to Victoria, and will mess up along the process.

 **LOVE UNEXPECTED**

It's a clear, sunny day, the kind that makes you want to be outside basking in the warmth. Which is exactly what I'm doing. Taking it easy, sitting on the grass, leaning against the trunk of a tree. There's a couple books haphazardly thrown on the greenery around me, a notebook and a pen in my hands. Basically I've been enjoying the evening while getting some work done. Or trying to.

As it turns out, it wasn't such a great idea. There, across the lawn, near the little flight of stairs that takes you to the parking lot, is Chloe. Rachel Amber is with her. So, yeah…

Looks innocent enough. They're side by side, leaning against the wall, hands gesticulating wildly and lit cigars leaving trails of smoke in front of them. Rachel says something that must be hilarious because Chloe begins laughing like an idiot. That must be some comedy gold right there. Although, Rachel is never that funny around me. Either I'm stupid and don't get her jokes, or she just isn't all that. I'm all for the second option here.

Being the same height, liking the same music and dressing in the same style as Chloe probably helps Rachel's act. At least where the former is concerned. Traitor.

Something bitter goes down my throat as I swallow. Chloe never laughs like that with me anymore. Yeah, we joke and goof around all the time, but she doesn't laugh like when we were kids anymore. She's no longer as carefree. Why? Have I turned into a downer without noticing? Or is it her and not me? Wait, shouldn't that line go the other way around? Well, one thing's for sure. Something has shifted between us. And it took a homewrecker for me to notice. Jealousy is an ugly thing, people say. Can't get myself to feel it's anything but natural right now, if I'm honest.

Leave my wife alone, bitch!

I sigh and hide my face between my knees. All right, I admit it. It has never been like that between Chloe and me. Sort of. We've gone all the way more times than I can count and we've never dated anyone, but our thing has never been formalized. Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned liking skater boys that one time. Was that enough to make her rethink our relationship? Or suspect that I was just going through some lesbian phase? I opened my mouth only because we tell each other everything, and she was asking, and it's the truth. Skater boys make me tingle in… parts… But Chloe does that too!

Never told her that, though. I groan loudly into my jeans. Okay, I guess we don't tell each other everything. Admittedly, I never had the guts, but also, I didn't think it was necessary. Come on, all those promises we made to each other through the years? Plus, all the sex. Can't she take a hint? Oh my god, can't I? Language is there for a reason! Why can't my brain stop being so convoluted and just be normal and use words?

A rumble from the parking lot puts a sudden stop to my self-flagellation. And just when I was about to start pulling my hair out. What shall I do now? Although, that option is not completely out yet, because that infernal noise means one thing. Victoria Chase and her cronies are back. The gift that keeps on giving. Just what this day needs to get even better. Woohoo.

I look up, just barely, chin tucked between my knees. Taylor, Courtney and their leader are walking past Chloe and Rachel, completely ignoring them. The three are all swaying hips and poisonous attitude as they walk across the lawn carrying their shopping bags. Where's the catwalk, bitches? Because I don't see it anywhere. Pretentious much?

When I see them getting closer, I do my best to blend into the trunk of the tree and avoid looking at them. Despite my shitty day, I'm not ready to get turned into stone, thank you very much.

After taking a quick peek to make sure they're gone from the vicinity, I turn my gaze back to Rachel Amber's stupid face. Laser eyes, why have you forsaken me?

"That must be some view if it's stopping you from selfie service."

Oh, fuck. Why me? Taylor and Courtney giggle idiotically in the wake of Victoria's joke, as per usual, and I'm left wondering once again if it's my brain that has the shitty wiring. Because really, how can there be this many awful comedians all bunched up here in Blackwell? Right? I sigh and hide in my knees again.

"Oh no, girls, Max is giving us the cold shoulder. I feel faint." She's probably touching the back of her hand to her forehead for emphasis. Histrionic as always.

More giggles. Go away, Victoria! I can't fucking deal with you right now.

"What are you even looking at?"

Shit. If there are any deities out there, please, this is exactly the right time to make yourselves known.

"Oh," Victoria says, understanding clear in her voice. Thanks for nothing, deities!

There's a lump in my throat and a pit in my stomach that plainly refuse to go away no matter how deep I breathe and how hard I try to swallow. She's never going to let me live this one down. Maybe now is the time to start wishing for the sweet release of death?

After a beat, I hear muffled footsteps in the grass, moving away from me. Victoria's voice is further away when I hear her speak again. Phew, looks like I'm out of the woods.

"Take my bags and go back," she orders. "Don't wait for me."

Huh?

"But," one of the others begins to say, when a slapping sound and a yelp suddenly cut her off.

Did Victoria just spank one of her minions?

"Off you go, chop-chop."

Footsteps approach again after that, and suddenly there's a hand under my armpit, trying to lift me up.

"Get up," Victoria commands.

I'm looking at her, and I want to say something, but nothing comes out of my mouth. Shit, I probably have that stupid deer in headlights look that Chloe has told me about so many times.

After some seconds, my mouth finally opens. "Uh…" I mutter. A job well done, me. Atta girl!

Victoria sighs. "Grab your things, you're coming with me."

What the hell is going on?

"Jesus Fucking Christ." Her eyes do this overdramatic roll that looks silly even on her.

Next, she smooths the back of her miniskirt and crouches down to start picking my things up. In a few brisk movements, she has everything neatly arranged under her arm.

"Walk," she orders through clenched teeth as she grabs my elbow and tries to drag me forward. "Can't you at least fucking walk?"

Victoria Chase just picked my loser infected things from the filthy grass. Her words, not mine, from several months ago. My feet begin moving, because otherwise my face would make a swift one way trip to the ground. Not to throw free praise at the enemy, but Victoria is way taller than me, and apparently strong too, contrary to what one would assume by looking at her manicured hands and thin limbs.

When we pass by Chloe and Rachel, neither notices the young and beautiful maiden being dragged away by the horrible witch. Geez, best friends forever, right, Chloe? It really hurts that her eyes don't stray from the girl beside her for even a second. If the feeling in my eyes is any indication, I think I'm going to cry. I'm also going to be sick. That will be some sight.

We get to Victoria's monstrosity of a car and I'm barely holding myself together. As she opens the passenger door for me, I rub my arm. Another Max tic that Chloe pointed out at some point or another. Thing is, Victoria picked up my things from the ground, and now she's being all considerate and stuff. Can't help it. This is so strange and awkward.

A sniffle escapes me as she guides me onto the seat. I'm on some kind of autopilot, if my compliance is any indication. How weird that a few unexpected minor incidents have made me realize that things with my best friend aren't as perfect as I thought. And how easily that realization has broken me.

The rumble of the engine tethers me back to reality. I remember reading about it once, out of curiosity. There are sixteen cylinders in the damn thing. Now, I understand Victoria's need to flaunt her money and status around to make some kind of statement, but really, does the actual planet need to know, too? Is she planning to finish off the world's atmosphere all on her own? Knowing what I know about the Queen Mean Girl of Blackwell, that's probably a yes on both counts. Everything for some likes on Facebook, right? America, fuck yeah!

Silence reigns supreme as we ride out of town. Fine by me. The car is comfortable and we're getting away from my problem. Maybe that's what Victoria wanted by dragging me along, which is nice of her.

Once we reach the highway, however, I take back every nice thought I've ever had about Victoria Chase. She is like that guy in Snow Crash, Hiro Protagonist. When she puts the hammer down, shit happens. I grab for dear life as the car accelerates like it has been launched forward by a mass relay. Fuck faster than light travel, we're now breaking the laws of physics. All of them.

I barely hear Victoria calling me over the airplane engine roaring behind the seats.

"Max?"

"Yeah?"

"Have you ever gotten high?" She doesn't look at me as she asks, for which I'm grateful. Even though I'm not sure looking at the road would do any good at this speed.

Although the sensible reaction would be to feel somewhat proud of having only smoked marijuana in my life, and only because Chloe likes to medicate—as she calls it—when she can't deal with her problems, instead, I feel inadequate. Victoria here has probably used every drug in the alphabet and she's going to mock me about my junkie shortcomings. It's completely irrational, but knowing the ability this girl has for putting others down, I'm almost certain that she's going to make me feel bad about not shooting smack or snorting the devil's dandruff. Yeah, I know the lingo. Learned it through Google. Some of the names stuck because, let's be honest, they're pretty funny.

"Only pot," I mutter, sinking in my seat.

"What?" she immediately replies.

Ah, shit. "Only pot," I repeat, louder this time.

"Only?" she asks, turning her head slightly to look at me with an arched brow.

In a sudden burst of confidence, I decide to attack preemptively before the mockery comes. Also, I'm so not in the mood to put up with her getting all over my case because I'm not cool and dunk pills into my gullet to have fun at parties.

"Well, yeah," I elaborate. "I know you probably use all kinds of shit, but there's no need to grind me about it, okay? We've already established that I'm not cool, blah-blah-blah."

"Wow." Victoria's tone is flatter than a glass of coke left overnight. "Just wow. All kinds of shit."

Her reaction leaves me reeling for a second.

Before I can question her, she carries on. "Well, asshole, I'll have you know that I mostly only drink. Yeah, I have a stash of weed, but it's not like I'm puffing all day long like those fucking skaters. And yeah, I've taken some ecstasy at raves, but you could probably count those times with one hand. So, go fuck yourself and your high horse, Maxine."

My gut reaction is to correct her on the name thing, as is customary, but I refrain. Wow is right. Predictably, Victoria managed to make me feel like shit about myself, but not for the expected reasons. Turns out that us, the good guys, can also be judgmental douchebags. Although, with the benefit of hindsight, I can see how it's not that outlandish. We all have it in us. Some people are just better at channeling it.

Victoria's lips are pressed into a thin line and the muscles of her neck look tense. She's angry. As in, actually angry. I realize now that I've never seen her angry before. Not for real. Even though in school she goes around throwing shit at everyone who has the misfortune of bumping into her in the hallways. Seeing her expression now, though, the lack of drama, I'm going to go ahead and say that so far I've only witnessed derision and disgust, not anger. Which makes me think that I touched a nerve. I always thought I would feel better when I managed it. I don't. God I'm lame.

"I'm sorry." I reach across the space between seats to touch her arm. She doesn't recoil or push my hand away. "It's just… There are so many rumors about the Vortex Club. So, I assumed…" I trail off.

"It's okay," she replies almost immediately. "I know there's rumors, and it's not like we've ever talked that much before."

There's even a small upward curvature to her lips as she talks. I would say that she's too easily pleased if that was all it took for her to forgive me, but I think I've made enough assumptions for today.

"Anyway," she says. "Open the glove compartment. There's some weed and paper and a rolling machine inside. Why don't you roll a couple?"

Instinctively, I look outside the window to get another look of the trees passing by in a blur.

"You're smoking while you drive?"

Victoria rolls her eyes without looking at me. "We're almost there. It's just to be prepared. Chill, will you?"

"Almost where?" Is the fear noticeable in my voice? Because there's only woods here. As far as the eye can see. Is she going to murder me and dump me in the forest to get eaten by coyotes? While getting baked? That's hella fucked up.

"Jesus, Max." She's looking at me. "What's with the face?"

"There's nothing here," I helpfully point out.

"My parents own a cabin."

Holy shit. Really? A cabin in the woods? Are you cereal? Victoria looks impassive as she drives. Why am I the only one seeing the problem with this?

I gulp. "Here? In the middle of nowhere?"

"Yeah. That's the whole point of a cabin, right? Nature, solitude, getting away from it all."

"I guess?"

"Jesus Christ, can you stop acting like I'm taking you to the slaughterhouse?"

Oops, she got me. I sink into my seat again, waiting for the inevitable.

Realization hits her. Here we go. "Oh my fucking god. That's exactly it!" She turns her head and fixes me with a murderous glare. "So, let me get this straight. Not only am I a filthy junkie, but also a murdering psychopath. Way to make me regret helping you, Caulfield."

I flinch. We're all the way back to last name basis? Ouch.

Victoria returns her gaze to the road and hits the wheel with one hand, grumbling something unintelligible. Out of sheer survival instinct, I raise my hands to protect my face. Wrong move, again.

"Really?" Now she actually sounds incredulous. "What the fuck, hipster? When have I ever even touched you?"

There's really no easy way to get through this. I shift uncomfortably and just wing it.

"Well, you're like, super fucking mean at school, you know?"

"Excuse me," she says indignantly, "but I'd say that calling you names is far away from physical harm. And fucking leagues away from actual murder."

I can't help rolling my eyes. Not at her, though, at the situation in general. Because, yeah, putting it like that, I do realize how stupid I've been acting. But, then again, I can't help how nervous she makes me feel.

"Well, if you just stopped being so intimidating all the time," I blurt out.

Victoria sighs heavily, and some unreadable expression briefly crosses her face.

"Yeah," she says after a beat, "I suppose."

I don't add anything else. Any admission of guilt—no matter how small or vague—on Victoria's part, is a win. Might as well quit while I'm ahead.

After a few miles of silence, the car slows down and we turn right, taking a dirt road that leads into the woods. Victoria begins tapping her fingers on the wheel. The silence between us stretches uncomfortably but I can't think of anything to say. So, I don't. Instead, I focus on the rhythmic noise the tires make as they hit little bumps and rocks on the road. It's sort of a white noise After a while, my eyelids begin feeling heavy.

"We're here," Victoria says, stopping the car in front of a house that looks nothing like what one would expect of the cabin descriptor.

A yawn escapes me as I rub my eyes with the heels of my hands. This place is more luxurious than my house back in Seattle. Cabin, hah! I bet there's electricity in here. How rustic. Rich people, pshaw. Am I right?

Victoria gets off and quickly makes her way to the front door. Once there, she turns over her shoulder as she inserts the key and shouts at me to not forget the pot. Well, I guess she's no longer feeling gracious and considerate. A pang of disappointment hits me at the thought. It was to be expected, I suppose. I open the glove compartment and grab the bag, the pack of paper and the rolling machine. By the time I'm out of the car, Victoria is nowhere to be seen.

Once inside the so called cabin, I shut the door behind me and drop my cargo on a little table by the entrance. This place is gorgeous. Time to explore.

I walk into the kitchen and take a peek into every single cabinet and drawer. It's a hobby of mine. Makes me feel like I'm learning the inhabitants' secrets. The place is fully stocked. Even the fridge is filled to the brim with food. There's cans of everything, several boxes of different cereal, pretty silverware, fancy wine glasses and all sorts of sundries. After scouting the place, I feel like I've gleaned nothing about whoever lives here. It feels detached and impersonal, like a hotel room.

"Having fun?" Victoria asks from behind me.

I close the fridge and turn to her. "Why is it fully stocked? Do your parents come often?"

She scoffs. "Of course not." With a little twitch of her hips, she pushes herself off the doorframe and walks into the room proper. "They do lend it a lot, though. Mostly people they want to make a good impression on. You know, rubbing elbows."

"And you," I add, because the omission seems odd.

"Nope." There's a small smile on her lips, but it looks kind of sad. "We're here without permission. I stole the keys a while ago, and made a copy."

Wow. This day is full of surprises. Who would've thought that Victoria Chase doesn't actually get everything she wants. Especially from mommy and daddy. The small act of rebellion makes me feel like I can relate better to her. I smile too.

"Cool."

"So," she says, pulling herself up with both hands to sit on top of the kitchen's island, "ready to blaze?"

A little warmth goes up to my neck and I look down. I've only ever done this with Chloe. Then again, I guess if she can have a new partner for goofing around, so can I.

"Yeah," I mumble, appraising the floor tiles for a second more.

Victoria produces two joints already rolled. "All right."

I stare at her. "When did you?"

"Well," she says, spreading her legs and pulling open the drawer that's between them. "You looked like you were having fun going through the cabinets, so, I went ahead and rolled them while I waited."

I gulp. Victoria is wearing a miniskirt. With tights under it, yes, but still. Don't stare! Look away!

She fishes the lighter from the drawer and brings it to the joint between her lips. They're so pink. Why am I so aware of her now?

"Here," she says, offering me the lit joint with her right hand. The golden bangles around her wrist clatter a little, drawing my attention. She has pretty hands. And delicate wrists. Shit, grab the joint! Now! Stop acting like an idiot!

Stupidly, I bring the joint to my lips and take a drag without thinking. I taste Victoria's lipstick in it. It makes me feel a little faint. It's not the weed, though, it's too soon for that. What is wrong with me? Yes, I've noticed that Victoria Chase is a very pretty girl. Who hasn't, right? If the hearsay in Blackwell is anything to go by, no one, that's who. There's the pixie cut that perfectly fits her face of catlike features that sometimes are more kitten than tiger. Yeah, even Victoria can be cute sometimes. She's tall, with long, shapely legs, and she has a way of looking elegant even when her thighs are spread and she's sitting on a kitchen island smoking marijuana. Damn it, look away!

Deciding it's my safest bet, I go sit beside her. Getting up on the island is a little more laborious for a shorter person like me, but I manage. This way, if I stare ahead lost in thought or the buzz of the pot, I won't be caught gawking at Victoria like a pervert.

Doesn't take that long after that for me to be completely baked. Smaller size, less mass, faster saturation. That's how Warren explained it. He's the science expert, therefore, it must be true.

"Where's your bathroom," I say slowly as I slide down from my perch.

Victoria slides after me and puts her arm around my shoulders, guiding me toward the door. "Do you see that wall across from the den?" She points with one finger.

I nod my assent.

"Okay, go behind it, and you'll find it at the end." She lets go of my shoulders and nudges me forward with a palm on my back. I immediately miss her warmth.

As I do my business, I notice a patch of dampness in my panties. Fucking hell. What is wrong with me? I'm here to mourn my divorce, not to fantasize about the feel of Victoria's titties in my mouth. The snort that escapes me is unavoidable. And then, I'm laughing all out. Titties. Such a funny word. I repeat it a couple times in my mind and laugh hysterically after each iteration.

Hours have been whiled away in this manner by the time I finally manage to get up from the toilet. Or not. Who knows? I'm at that stage where you don't remember jack and time has lost all meaning.

When I walk out the door after—maybe, probably—washing my hands, I stumble on Victoria who is waiting right outside.

"Oops," I say, clinging to her shoulders as she holds my waist to keep me from falling.

"Max."

I look up and find her staring at me with intensity. Probably needs me to let go so she can pee. "Looks like someone else needs to use the loo," I say in my best British accent. Then, I dissolve into giggles. Loo. What a funny word.

"I'm in love with you."

It feels like the blood stops in my veins for a second before flowing normally again. I try to push away from Victoria but my arms are wet noodles and she's not letting go of my waist.

"What?" I struggle uselessly against her hold. "You're fucking tripping! Like, literally!"

She tries to nuzzle my neck. "I've liked you since the first day you came to Blackwell."

I let my arms fall limply at my sides and turn my face away from her. It's either this or punching her in the teeth, or head-butting her. Deep breaths.

"And you treat me like shit because that's how you show you care, like boys in kindergarten, is that it?" I laugh. It sounds bitter even to my own ears.

"No." Her arms tighten, pulling me flush against her body and resting her chin on the crown of my head. She's very warm. "Yes. I don't know."

That's it. My hands go up to her shoulders again. I'm pushing with all my strength and she barely budges. What the fuck?

"It's just that," she continues, talking into my hair, "since day one, you were always stuck to that other girl, following her around like a puppy. I just knew I didn't have a chance. Like, none. At all. It was so obvious that you two were an item."

Chloe. And now Victoria thinks she has a chance, because, well, who wouldn't? Not after seeing Chloe and Rachel Amber hanging out like they do. Laughing, being punk, looking like they've known each other for years. Fuck. The strength goes out of me and my arms fall down again.

Victoria sniffles and lets out a sound that's between laughter and sobbing. "And, well, if you wouldn't be mine, then I had to destroy you."

I feel like rolling my eyes. Because, yeah, that is just so Victoria Chase. It makes a twisted kind of sense.

She pulls away to look at my face, holding me in place with her hands on my shoulders. "It's different now."

Is it? I'm not sure how different the situation actually is. It's not the same, that's for sure. Not since Rachel came into the picture.

Victoria's eyes harden as she stares into my own. "I've seen you looking at me, Max."

I gulp. Shit. My brain works overdrive to come up with an exit strategy.

"Everyone looks at you, Victoria," I say, laughing a little. I don't hold her gaze, though, and for a second, I'm afraid that my lack of confidence is too obvious.

It is. She immediately notices. One of her hands leaves my shoulder and caresses my cheek. The contact makes me gasp and turn my head toward her. It's a mistake I regret immediately, and also not for long enough.

Suddenly, Victoria is inside my personal space, the hand she had on my cheek sliding behind my neck to nudge my head to one side. She's not as subtle as she thinks she is. I know what's coming. I know what she wants, and yet, I do nothing to stop it. My muscles comply, inclining my head. When her lips descend upon mine, my first reaction is to reach with both hands for her back, bunching her blouse and holding for dear life.

The kiss is sticky with her lipstick, our lips clinging to each other's because of it. To me, the sensation is both new and delicious. I sigh through my nose and open my mouth a little, inviting Victoria to deepen the kiss. It's probably the weed, but this feels so good, and I can't help thinking just how much better it's going to get with some tongue in the mix.

Even if I say so myself, the improvement is remarkable. My legs go weak under me, and Victoria follows me down to kneel on the floor. Her lips never leave mine. They're so soft and insistent. I can't help it when my hands go to her neck and head, my fingers tangling in her hair for better grip. When I pull, she whimpers. Exquisite.

We kiss and kiss, and then kiss some more. When I'm next aware of my surroundings, we're already sitting on the edge of a bed. I'm in front and she's behind me, her hand caressing my belly, sliding down little by little.

It's then, upon realizing how far we've gone without me noticing, that the flames of resistance inside of me are fanned to life. I clench my thighs, cutting any further access to that naughty hand. This is wrong. Even if Chloe and I aren't going steady, there's something between us, Rachel Amber notwithstanding. This is a betrayal of that. It's cheating.

Victoria is undeterred, though. Her lips trail kisses up my neck until she finds the pulse, and then she licks. I shudder and my thoughts evaporate. Her free hand pulls my shirt aside, and her mouth leaves a trail of fire all the way to my shoulder.

I know what she's doing. She's trying to whittle my resistance away. It's not going to work. Hang in there, brave soldiers of the resistance! Oh god, she just found my earlobe. There's nipping and suckling. I gasp without meaning to and my nose gets filled with the smells of sweaty skin and Victoria's expensive perfume. It's intoxicating. She's intoxicating.

What we're doing right now is wrong. Right? Holy crap, how is her mouth doing that? How can this be wrong when it feels so good? No, wait, this absolutely cannot happen. Victoria's hand slides up my front until it reaches my face, and then, she dips two fingers into my mouth. She toys with my tongue as she keeps kissing and suckling on my neck.

"Nuh," I mutter, half refusal and half moan. Must seem like hypocrisy, considering that I'm sucking greedily on her fingers.

"I love you," Victoria whispers in my ear. Her hot breath and sultry tone send shivers down my spine. It's nothing compared to what the actual words do to me.

Chloe and I shared many, many things over the years. Never earnest declarations of love, though. My throat tightens. Somehow, I want to cry and I want to laugh at the same time. The prettiest girl in school is telling me she loves me. These conflicting feelings are going to drive me nuts.

When my legs begin opening, I could claim it's because I feel weak, because the girl behind me is eliciting that reaction with her ministrations, but it would be a lie. I unclamp my thighs because I'm aching for more pleasure, and because I want Victoria's to be the one giving it to me.

Her hand slides down the front of my jeans but doesn't go all the way. As she keeps lighting my skin on fire with her lips, her long nails begin scratching my pubic hair.

A few torturous minutes go by, and she does everything except dipping her hand where I want it. It's on purpose. She keeps coaxing me to open up little by little with tiny nudges of her hands and subtle thrusts of her hips, all the while her mouth works its wonders. She wants me to give in, to want it all on my own. I don't know whether to love her or hate her for the teasing.

The moment her patience is rewarded by me fully spreading my legs, she growls in an animal way and slides her hand straight under my panties. She cups my groin firmly but not unkindly. It's sudden and direct, and my body reacts appropriately. My back goes taut so forcefully that I push us both back into the mattress.

Victoria laughs as she turns us around so she can be on top. It's a happy, carefree sound that I've never heard coming out of her mouth. I like it. Knowing that I'm the cause for Victoria laughing like this gives me immense satisfaction. I laugh too.

As we share this moment of simple joy, our eyes meet. She stares at me with an intensity that scares me a little. And then, pinning me down like that with her brown eyes, she descends slowly until our lips meet again. The kiss is fiery, just like the ones before, but now there's a note of tenderness, a softness and a willingness to yield as I kiss back. I melt into her. And she notices.

All of a sudden, it's no holds barred. Her hands are all over me, and it feels like she has twenty of them.

It doesn't take long after that for my clothes to become an annoyance. When she slinks down along my body to begin unbuttoning my pants, she makes a pause to lick my bellybutton and blow on it, causing me to giggle. It doesn't stop there. Next, she discovers that I'm ticklish near the hipbones, and she relishes kissing me there and making me squirm. I never would've pinned Victoria Chase as being playful in bed. It's a pleasant surprise.

Her hands begin pulling my jeans and panties together, and I offer no resistance. Hell, I even help by raising my hips. By the time the articles land on the carpet, she's already sinking to her knees between my legs. She grabs me by the waist and pulls me toward the edge of the bed. Then, her hands slide along the side of my thighs until her thumbs hook at the back of my knees. When she nudges, I catch her meaning and comply immediately by lifting my legs. My face grows warmer by the second. Victoria Chase is looking at my privates. Oh gosh.

She proceeds to push my thighs all the way until I can feel them pressing against my stomach. Wow. Pervert much? Today is quickly getting to be the most embarrassed I've ever been in my entire life. This is Victoria we're talking about here, though. So, she then takes it to eleven.

"You're so beautiful. All of you," she declares. Then, she plants a tender kiss on my moist flesh.

Jesus Christ, my face is on fire. I try to cover it up with both arms, but somehow, it feels ineffectual. Chloe never paid me compliments like this. She always was there for me, though. Acts weigh more than words, right? Well, I don't know anymore. Not after today. Seems like the only reason I never knew I wanted someone doting over me and offering me words of adoration is because I never had a taste before.

Today, Victoria showed me that she can be relied on as a friend, and then, this. I've never thought of myself as ugly, or anything, but also not as sensual and beautiful. It seemed conceited. But, right here and now, Victoria is making me feel like her own personal goddess. My heart is singing. It never had before. Yes, despite also feeling like I could die of embarrassment.

The tender moment passes, and Victoria, kneeling at the altar of my sexuality, begins eating me in earnest. I become unraveled.

It feels like I'm going to die.

I'm sorry, Chloe. I'm sorry mom and dad. I can't help it. It's as if Victoria Chase was born for the specific purpose of making love to me.

Oh god. I'm dying. I can't breathe. I can see stars. Something is taking hold of my body. I'm falling. I'm dying…

When the world finally comes back into focus, Victoria is right there, lying on the bed beside me. She's smoothing my hair back and whispering unintelligible things while smiling. Somehow, despite feeling exhausted, I manage to smile back.

"You made a mess of my hand, Mad Max," she says after a beat. The term of endearment doesn't go unnoticed. "Clean it, pretty please?"

Her fingers come up to my lips and I open up without thinking, taking the offered digits into my mouth. I taste myself. This is so dirty, but also exciting at the same time. It makes me hum like I'm tasting some delicious meal. Pervert much? I guess so.

This is too amazing. I don't think I'll be able to refuse Victoria from now on.

"Thank you," she says, pulling her fingers out with a pop. Geez, can I get any thirstier? She laughs kindly about it, though. Such a nice sound.

For a second, the thought of doing the same for her crosses my foggy mind. Although I seriously don't see how my skills can possibly compare, I don't want her to think I'm selfish in bed. Because I'm not. I'm very giving. Also, I'm sure I can make up for any shortcomings with enthusiasm. As I try to turn on my side, though, Victoria easily stills me with a hand on my chest.

"Don't worry." She cuddles next to me. "There will be other times."

My insecurity somehow manages to rear its ugly head above the post-orgasm haze and the weed. Does she really want us to become something more? Do I?

It is with that question bouncing in my head that I fall asleep.

The next morning, I wake up to a very dry mouth and a headache insinuating itself in my temples. I expect to be alone in bed, given that what happened was probably a weed fueled one-night stand, but no. I barely have any time to feel misery and regret when I notice all four of Victoria's limbs are encircling me. Damn this is uncomfortable. But also cute. And strange, because shouldn't I be the one climbing her like a tree since she's taller? I giggle at my own joke.

Karma comes instantaneously in the form of a sharper pounding in my head. That's what I get for being so self-serving.

Victoria stirs beside me. "You're awake."

"Yeah. Think you could… you know." I touch her forearm.

"Oh," she says, eyes widening briefly. "Yeah, of course. I'm sorry."

Once I'm free, I turn on my side and reach to clear some stray bangs off her forehead. "Don't be."

She smiles at me.

We stay in bed like this for a while, in comfortable silence. At some point, Victoria also reaches over to try fixing my hair a little, raking her fingers along it and tucking loose strands behind my ear. Unlike her cute pixie, though, I'm well aware that my hair is a lost cause in the mornings and she's wasting her time. The gesture is enjoyable nevertheless.

After a while, she groans and sits up, stretching her arms above her head.

"I'm fucking starving," she announces.

"Me too."

She checks her wristwatch. "If we hurry up, we can still catch breakfast at some restaurant."

At her comment, the awesome kitchen flashes through my mind.

"What? No. Everything we need is right in the kitchen."

"You can cook?" Victoria says, frowning a little.

I don't know whether to feel insulted because she thinks I'm incompetent, or flattered because she's never met someone our age who cooks his or her own meals. Her tone could mean either, so, I limit myself to grabbing her hand and pulling as I stand up.

"Come on."

She doesn't budge, though. "Max."

"What?"

Victoria looks away and brings a fist to her mouth before clearing her throat. Why is she blushing? That's when I become sharply aware of how unencumbered I feel.

"Oh."

Once I'm dressed, we walk into the kitchen. I instruct Victoria to take a sit at the island while I dig through the fridge.

After a minute or so, I notice that every ingredient is here.

"Holy crap." I turn toward Victoria. "We have everything for a full English. Please let me cook you one. My mom used to serve them on Sundays, and I miss it so much, but it's impossible to buy everything with my allowance, and besides, there's no kitchen I could use, although maybe Joy would let me do it in hers—"

"Max."

"Yeah?"

She smiles. "You're cute when you ramble."

Whoa. Now I'm doubly flustered. Victoria thinks I'm cute when I ramble. Also, I just rambled like an idiot.

"I'll take one," she adds. "Thanks."

I bite my lower lip. I've never done this for anyone, not even Chloe. My god, now that I think about it, this feels so domestic and intimate. Is it getting hot in here?

Before Victoria can catch me blushing, I turn around and start taking out ingredients from the fridge and placing them on the countertop.

After about half an hour, the meal is finally done. Two perfect full English breakfasts. Hell, I even found the huge plates they use in restaurants to serve them. So authentic! I inhale the scent and hum in appreciation, proud of my own work. It smells delicious, even if I do say so myself.

Victoria has one elbow propped on the island when I turn around. Her cheek is resting on the palm of her hand and she's staring at me with a goofy little smile on her lips. When she notices that I turned around, she sits straighter, her expression quickly shifting to a neutral one. Too neutral. What is she trying to cover? That she was staring at my ass? Come on, we're past being shy about that, right?

As I set the plate in front of her, I bite my lip to keep from smiling. I'm so eager for her to taste it. And also, really, really hoping she likes it. There's nothing like cooking for someone and seeing the look of bliss on his or her face as they eat. Well, admittedly, there's also the matter of potential praise. But no, cooking for someone is basically a selfless act.

Yeah, who am I kidding? I very much want Victoria to praise my cooking. Ah, maybe she will comb my hair back with her fingers and kiss my forehead while she gushes about my awesome kitchen skills. Okay, enough daydreaming. I pull a stool from the side of the island and take a seat across her.

I'm practically gawking at Victoria as she collects food on her fork and then lifts it to her lips. My eyes follow the entire trip of this first forkful until it disappears into her mouth. Then, I turn my focus to her face as a whole, waiting for her reaction.

Her eyes close. Her lips press into a thin line. She suddenly takes a sharp intake of breath through her nose. And then, she lets out a broken sob. The tears come short after. What the hell?

Without even thinking, I drop my fork on the plate. It clatters noisily, but I don't care. In an instant, I'm beside Victoria, my hand going automatically to her back. She's hiding her face in her hands.

"Victoria? What's wrong?"

"Nothing", she sobs.

Uh huh. "What's wrong?" I insist.

"Nothing!" she screeches, face still hidden in her hands.

I say nothing more. It's obvious that she needs some space, no matter how much I want to help. Since she's not pushing me away, I keep rubbing circles on her back.

"It's just…" she suddenly blurts after a minute. "It's just that it's so stupid!"

"I'm sure it's not," I tell her, hoping I sound as serious as I feel. Nothing stupid can hurt a person in such a way.

Another minute goes by and she finally looks up from her hands. She folds them neatly on her lap and sniffles a couple times before turning toward me. Her reddened eyes focus on me, solemn and brimming with tears. Then, she breaks my heart in a million pieces.

"No one has ever cooked a homemade meal for me."

I move on autopilot, feeling stiff and robotic. My arms go around her shoulders, pulling her toward me and settling her head against my chest with one hand. She sobs again and her shoulders shake a little. I tighten the embrace one-armed and begin caressing her hair. Fuck Victoria's parent's, really.

"I will cook for you every time you want," I say against the crown of her head.

"Really?" she sobs.

"Of course!"

She nods against my chest. "Okay. I'm going to hold you to that."

A little laugh escapes me. I caress her hair some more. Victoria will be Victoria.

After that short bout of getting catharsis for old wounds, we go back to our breakfasts. Even though now the food is lukewarm, it's still pretty damn excellent. Not gloating or anything.

When I collect the plates to wash them, Victoria joins me at the sink. Wowser. In the past, I said it sarcastically, but she truly is the gift that keeps on giving. I want to take a picture so I can show proof to everyone when they call me crazy after recounting this day. Maybe I'm getting ahead of myself, but I suddenly get the feeling that this change in attitude is largely because of me.

Even if it's all in my head, I still stand straighter at her side.

Once we're done washing, we take a shower. Together. Nothing really happens, though, much to my chagrin. Just some kissing and light petting. Victoria says it's because she wants to head back before people start taking notice and sic the cops on her for kidnapping and murdering me. Makes sense. Even I feared as much as we rode here.

Victoria is walking toward me and the car after locking the cabin, looking perfectly normal—Blackwell normal—and that's when a wave of panic suddenly hits me. Somehow, I'm sure that the spell will be broken the moment we leave this place. Some part of my mind knows it's irrational, but the other part, the one that is screaming at me louder every passing second, is scared senseless.

I know it's pushing my luck. I know she has every right to refuse for rational reasons. For example, that her damn car is worth like three million dollars. However, I also need to know how serious she is. I really, really need to be sure. This fear fluttering around in my gut needs to go. It's selfish to get my peace of mind by putting her on the spot like this, but despite feeling shitty, I just don't see any other way right now. And asking just won't do. Even with all the progress we've made, I'm still not a hundred percent ready for blind trust.

As I open my mouth, I apologize mentally to her. "Hey, can I drive?"

She stops, shifts her weight on one leg and tilts her hips. It feels longer, but she only regards me for a second before speaking.

"Do you have a license?"

"Yeah," I reply, fishing my wallet from my messenger bag and pulling the card out from one of its slots.

Without any fuss, Victoria throws the key at me. "Okay."

By some kind of miracle, I manage to catch the little plastic thing without fumbling even once. I'm so nervous. I've never seen anyone driving Victoria's car. Anyone. Not her best friends, Taylor and Courtney, and not even her self-appointed brother from another mother, Nathan Prescott. Holy shit, I'm giddy.

It takes me nearly superhuman effort to saunter casually around the car to the driver's side. My legs have turned to gelatin.

Soon enough—thanks in no small part to a concise, well-thought-out tutorial patiently delivered by Victoria—we're cruising on the highway back to Arcadia Bay.

Facing Chloe is going to be hard, I'm well aware of that. But, now that I know Victoria will be with me all the way, I'm not scared. Rachel will be there for Chloe, that's for sure, and that will help too. Someday, she will forgive me, and I will be able to tolerate the presence of Rachel Amber, the homewrecker. One day we will be back to normal. Everything will turn out fine, I just know it.

I take my right hand off the wheel and place it palm up on the central console. Not a second passes before Victoria's hand slides into mine and our fingers intertwine almost by reflex. She squeezes. When I look at her inquisitively, she smiles at me, her eyes crinkling happily.

"I love you," she says.

My throat tightens. She's probably not expecting me to reply in kind, just like those times she said it before, but I would be remiss to not do something. I'm not there yet, though, and she probably knows. So, what I end up doing is smiling back at her and squeezing her hand with all my strength, like I want to crush it.

Somehow, I want the promise of me catching up to her to enter her being by sheer force. Because I don't know what to say. Or even if my words would be able to convey what I feel. I've never been eloquent. She needs to see, she has to. She has to understand.

"We'll get there," she says with absolute confidence. Then, she plants a kiss on the knuckles of my hand and squeezes it again.

It's like a weight lifts from my shoulders. She understands.

 **FIN**


End file.
